Catharsis
by Kasey22
Summary: Just after the battle, Harry is a little distraught over everything that’s happened and Hermione comforts him. Oneshot.


Title: Catharsis

A/N: Post-Battle, H/Hr, Oneshot.

Description: Just after the battle, Harry is a little distraught over everything that's happened and Hermione comforts him. Awesome betareading by ParticleAccelerator as always!

Reviews are coveted (in case you were wondering).

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the storyline.

xoxox

He'd thought he was well away from everyone, but she knew his hiding places too well. Harry Potter sat on the floor of the attic in Grimmauld Place, knees drawn up to his chest, head in hands, and in the dark, just the way he liked it.

He heard her before he could see her, which didn't surprise him considering the creaky third stair leading up here. He shifted slightly against the wall, half wishing that she'd just go away. He could hear the party in full swing downstairs – the victory celebration.

The attic was musty and damp, like the cellars. He'd never investigated its contents well enough to really know what was up here. Probably a bunch of old Black family heirlooms and junk. He didn't care. He didn't want any of it.

Now that it was over, finally over, he didn't want a thing. Well, maybe Sirius back. And his parents. The friends who'd fallen in battle. Dumbledore. His heart ached and he rubbed his tired head. Why did it have to go on hurting so much? When you lose someone why can't you just forget them? Why does the memory have to jab your chest from the inside out every time you think of them?

She'd reached the top of the stairs now, and though he knew she couldn't see him, she was heading in his direction. His clothes were filthy – he hadn't bothered to change when he'd gotten back to headquarters. The news had reached the rest of the Order before he had, and they hadn't given him a chance to do anything but sneak away.

The adrenaline rush of battle had long since gone and he was spent; completely, totally, and absolutely exhausted. He could still see Voldemort's eyes as he'd done it. Harry Potter had killed, shed blood, taken a life.

"Harry," she whispered, kneeling down on the floor in front of him.

His tears came unbidden. He didn't want to cry, didn't want to be weak, but it was out of his control. He wept for all that he had lost, all that had been taken from him.

"It's all right," she breathed softly, taking his head in her hands and bringing it to her chest. She held him tight and he clung to her like a child.

She pressed kisses to his messy hair, to his temple and cheek. She stroked his back and felt his hands gather up her shirt into balls. "Let it all out," she told him, her voice lulling him, soothing him. "It's all right. Everything will be all right."

After several moments his body stopped shaking, but he made no effort to leave the warmth of her body, though he could feel that his tears had left a trail of liquid all down her front. He felt drained and almost immobile. She was still stroking his back and pressing warm kisses against his hot forehead. Harry thought about all the deaths, all the blood and held her tighter.

He realized that her shirt was entangled in his fists and he immediately let go, letting his hands roam up to tangle in her bushy hair. She was the only one who would do this, seek him out. Everyone else would just have allowed him to be alone, thinking that it was what he wanted. He was suddenly so thankful that she was here, and not hurt or dead. He didn't know what he'd have done if something had happened to her. He hugged her tighter and she made a noise, like he'd squeezed all the air out of her lungs.

Her hands found the back of his neck and he shivered at her cool touch. Harry lifted his head to look at her eyes, and suddenly he was captivated. They stared at each other, a breath apart, and desire flamed to life. He was falling into those dark eyes and he didn't care. All he wanted was her, right now, this minute. He wanted to savor her very presence, touch her everywhere to prove to himself that she was actually here in his arms. Without thinking past that, he crushed her mouth under his and to his utter astonishment she kissed him back with equal force.

She pressed his knees open and suddenly she was flush against him her breasts rubbing his chest and her hands pulling his shirt out of the waist of his jeans. His body began to respond immediately, and, where in the past he might be embarrassed by this, today he didn't care. He pressed himself against her soft curves. She opened her mouth and licked his bottom lip and now it was his turn to moan. His hands left her hair and quickly pulled her shirt over her head. It landed on the dusty floor somewhere behind her.

At this broken contact they stared at each other for a moment, breathing hard, the cool air caressing her skin and making her nipples harden through her white cotton bra. Without a word, Hermione reached behind her and slowly unhooked the garment. As it dropped from her shoulders, Harry involuntarily lifted a hand to reverently stroke the creamy skin surrounding the pebbly nub protruding from the tip of one of her breasts. Hermione closed her eyes at his touch and sighed. It was all the encouragement he needed.

Pulling her to him, he took first one nipple and then the other into his mouth to roll and suckle. She threaded her fingers into his hair and whispered, "Yes…"

His touch was like magic; it made her skin want to sing and it drove her wild. In another moment, though, she was frustrated and needy, practically ripping his shirt from his body and standing finally to shrug off her trousers and panties. She looked at him expectantly and he snapped out of it. He'd been so enjoying the view that he'd almost forgotten that there was something they were working toward. Almost.

He rose and undid his pants, letting them fall to his ankles where he kicked out of them. As he did so she pressed herself against him and he kissed her again, plunging his tongue into her mouth and savoring the sweet taste. They found an old mattress propped up against a wall and let it fall to the floor. They quickly dropped onto it, and Harry wasted no time settling himself between her thighs, touching her lightly and making her shiver with anticipation and eagerness. He was so very hard and ready but again, she beat him to it, arching her back and lifting her hips to take him in a little. He finished the job, sheathing himself fully and allowing the sensation of completion to wash over him. _This was it_, his addled brain told him. _This is what you've been working for. This was _home

Soon, their bodies took control and she matched him thrust for thrust until it was too much and she climaxed under him, again arching her back so far off the bed he expected she'd be sore the next day. He didn't have time to think about it, though, because the spasms of her orgasms set him off quickly and soon there were too many exploding stars flying past his head for him to do anything but enjoy the feeling of being buried inside this woman.

As they lay there, skin cooling and legs tangled, Harry still deep inside her, she stroked his hair and kissed his cheek.

"You always know just the right thing to say," he told her, his voice a little shaky.

Hermione smiled against his ear and whispered, "I thought I was a bossy know-it-all."

"Well, yes," he agreed, "but you're _my_ bossy know-it-all. And I couldn't live without you if I tried."

"Sweet talker."

Harry lifted his head and moved carefully to lie beside her, head propped on one hand. He let his other hand lounge lazily on her belly. He didn't think of himself as possessive, but he absolutely loved that he was able to just casually let his hand rest there as if he owned her skin.

"Thank you," he told her seriously.

Her smile faded and she suddenly felt very exposed. "Don't thank me," she said looking away. "It's like you said. I couldn't live without you if I tried. So why should I try?"

"Why indeed?" he agreed and decided that he would never try again.


End file.
